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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510705">Emulsify</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Maneater/pseuds/Mx_Maneater'>Mx_Maneater</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bisexual Disaster Harry Potter, Coming Out, Feelings Realization, Harry Potter Thinks Draco Malfoy is Up to Something, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, One Shot, POV Alternating, Potions, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Snarky Draco Malfoy, Tutoring</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:40:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,317</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510705</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mx_Maneater/pseuds/Mx_Maneater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry reluctantly returns to Hogwarts for an 8th year of study, he realizes that maybe - just <i>maybe</i> - he's not all that great at studying.  He'd really rather give up and leave it at that, but Hermione is insistent that he needs a tutor.</p>
<p>And he's about to find one in an unlikely place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>247</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Drarry Strugglefest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Emulsify</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallyapostrophes/gifts">sallyapostrophes</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic came out of <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/underscore_sally/pseuds/underscore_sally">underscore_sally</a>'s prompt, so thanks for the inspiration!  :)</p>
<p>Thanks, too, to my ever-patient beta, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyisBurning/pseuds/GallifreyisBurning">GallifreyisBurning</a>!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>	“I think you should go back to Hogwarts.” 
</p>
<p>Harry scuffed his shoe against the uneven floorboards instead of looking up at Hermione.  The wood was worn away in places where the Black family had tread for centuries, but only under its latest, most negligent heir had it fallen into such disrepair.  Dark magic had permeated these walls for ceaseless generations – that much was a given – but it still felt unfortunate to act as the impetus to the house’s final descent.  </p>
<p>“Really, you should,” Hermione was saying, waving in front of his distracted eyes.  </p>
<p>He broke from his musings.  “I can’t.”</p>
<p>“You know that’s not true.”</p>
<p>Harry heaved a sigh.  It felt large and stale in his chest, like it had been building for years – like it was building within him still.  “Okay.  Well, I don’t <em>want</em> to, then.” </p>
<p>She tilted her head as she scrutinized him.  “I don’t think that’s entirely true either.”  </p>
<p>Perhaps she was right, but he dismissed it with a shrug.  He went back to staring at the floorboards, eventually working his way up to the florid, bubbling wallpaper.  It had faded to a nasty, scab-like color over the years.  It had never looked <em>nice</em> – not as long as he’d known it. </p>
<p>When the silence became too much for Hermione, she tried again.  </p>
<p>“Harry.” </p>
<p>“What?”  He swiveled his gaze, widening his eyes in that false innocence that he knew would never work – not on her.  Not when she knew his habits, practically knew what he was thinking at any given time.  </p>
<p>“I…  Just think about it, alright?  It may not be a perfect answer, but it’s the best one you have.  I truly believe that.”  </p>
<p>He sighed again, not even breaching that <em>thing </em>building in his chest without release.  Perhaps Hogwarts would give him some answers.  A blessed bit of closure on this chapter of his life.  </p>
<p>But perhaps it would ruin him.  </p>
<p>All he said was: “We’ll see.” </p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>3 months later</strong>
</p>
<p>Harry trudged into the common room after a very long, very bad day.  His robes were lightly smoking, and his ears itched where there were inevitably still tiny bits of seaweed spun into his hair.  His potion had turned out disastrous; his mood was correspondingly thunderous.  </p>
<p>“Harry!”  </p>
<p>His best mate’s voice dwindled and died when he saw the look on Harry’s face.  “Err, you…alright there, mate?”  Ron scratched at the back of his head like he did when he was nervous that he’d said the wrong thing about House Elves in front of Hermione. </p>
<p>Harry slumped into an armchair that promptly swallowed him up in pillows.  It was taking all his effort not to say something snappish in reply.  “Fine,” he gritted out at last when the moment had long expired. </p>
<p>“Er…right,” Ron mumbled back.  He shifted in his seat, opening his mouth several times before stopping, then hastily made up a Quidditch maneuver Ginny had “asked his advice on” so that he could leave.  A typical Ron move.</p>
<p>Whatever.  </p>
<p>Harry turned his accusing gaze on Hermione – his real target all along – who looked up and met it after a second with defiant resignation.  She closed her book and sat forward a bit in her chair.  “I’m not going to apologize for bringing you back, if that’s what you’re after.  I still think it’s good for you to be here.” </p>
<p>“What part of it?” Harry exploded.  “The failing-all-my-classes bit or the being-subjected-to-pity-and/or-hero-worship bit?”  His nostrils flared, and he made a conscious effort to tame his magical outburst before trophies started combusting on the mantel.  Last week, he’d destroyed the Gryffindor banner Dean had put up, and he’d felt particularly lousy after he’d calmed down a bit. </p>
<p>“You’re not failing <em>all </em>your classes,” she responded starkly, “just Potions.”  </p>
<p>“Oh, and getting P’s and A’s in all the others!”  </p>
<p>Hermione’s lips thinned.  “‘Acceptable’ is still a passing grade, Harry.  And ‘Poor’s can easily be raised through doing the homework and-”</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck </em>homework.  Fuck digging around in the dirt until I find a proper-sized tentacula seed.  I mean, don’t you think we’re a little <em>past</em> that?”  </p>
<p>She sighed, and for a second, Harry saw the weariness behind her eyes.  Usually, she hid it so well – even from him.  </p>
<p>“No,” she said eventually.  “No, I don’t.  I think I’d have much preferred the ability to study a wide variety of subjects without focusing only on the ones that would keep us alive in times of mortal peril.”  </p>
<p>And just like that, Harry’s ire was sucked out of him.  He deflated, guilt rushing to fill the vacant space.  “I’m sorry I took that from you,” he muttered miserably.  </p>
<p>He felt her hand grabbing him by the shoulder, but distantly.  “Harry,” she said urgently.  “Harry, it’s not your fault.  We’ve been through this.”  </p>
<p>He shrugged her off and retreated further into his chair.  Perhaps it would smother him.</p>
<p>“And I’m not going to let you fail,” she continued.  “Have I ever?  Here, I’ll tutor you in the mornings even.  Before our first block class.”  Her voice was just this side of begging, and he hated that he always drove her to this point.  She functioned on fixing things, and his psyche was just so resistant to fixing.  </p>
<p>But he’d give it a try – for her.  He was sick to death of making his friends worry.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he mumbled half-heartedly from the cavern of his chair.  “I’m sure that’ll help.” </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Draco was in the library the first time he heard them arguing.  Granger was saying something bossy – as per usual – but instead of taking it with wide-eyed subservience like he normally did, Potter was slamming books around and raising his voice despite Madam Pince’s pointed glares.  </p>
<p>It was astonishing, really, to see Potter’s anger aimed in a different direction.  Draco had been on the receiving end for so long that it felt almost uncomfortable seeing the man yell at Granger instead of him.  (Not that he sympathized with her, per say…it was just that, in light of the Dark Lord’s defeat and the crumbling of his parents’ entire worldview, he had been <em>reassessing</em> things.  And his inherent animosity towards Gryffindorish do-gooders based on blood status was unfortunately one of the things under assessment.)</p>
<p>Draco had been surprised to even <em>see</em> Potter in the library earlier this week, and it was definitely out of character for him to appear there every day since.  And with each subsequent day, the man had appeared more disheveled and frustrated than the last.  </p>
<p>If Draco was being honest with himself, he would admit that he rather enjoyed it.  Potter, Savior of the Universe, reduced to an irate mess over a Potions assignment – a total contrast to the empty, distant stares Draco was prone to now if he sat alone with his thoughts for too long.  At least Potter was still lively.  He had always enjoyed getting a rise out of him.  </p>
<p>But, as he reshelved his book on Muggle history, Draco couldn’t ignore the current vein of brokenness in Potter’s tone, either.  He was yelling at Granger again.  Something about “he was <em>trying</em>;” something about “failing anyway.”  And, without fully intending to, Draco felt himself empathizing with him based on those words alone.  </p>
<p>Draco had been trying too.  Trying to put the past behind him and change – starting from within.  His background, he acknowledged, had barred him from thinking logically for a very long time, but even <em>he</em> could see that rushing into charities and sordid memoirs would be more an unflattering lunge at the spotlight than productive, earnest repentance.  He stood by that view still today – yet he had learned something else along the way: people weren’t always so receptive to self-proclaimed “inner change.”  The pesky thing about the “inner” aspect of it was that you couldn’t whip it out for proof.</p>
<p>So Draco had gone about cleansing his thoughts, replacing ones like “There goes the bookish mudblood” (that he hadn’t been thinking seriously since about fifth year) with ones like “There’s Granger.  Still a bit condescending, but she probably has reason to be, I guess, since Potter and Weasley clearly <em>weren’t</em> the brains behind vanquishing the Dark Lord.”  </p>
<p>He’d been civil to first years; he remained entirely silent in classes, for the most part.  He was doing his best to change, and yet that hadn’t stopped the hexes.  It hadn’t stopped the infernal scrawls of “DEATH EATER” across his bag and books when he forgot to put up protective charms.  </p>
<p>It hadn’t stopped the mocking glare from the skull on his left forearm that watched him late into every night.  </p>
<p>Draco was trying, but he was <em>failing</em>.  And from what he could hear, Potter was failing too.  An idea struck him with such suddenness and intensity that he almost dropped his armful of books.  </p>
<p>They were <em>both </em>failing.  In opposite and complementary ways.  Potter was failing classes and getting worshipped for it (because he’d never done a day’s worth of studying in his life), and Draco was pouring all his time and energy into silent study because no one would give him the time of day.  If they worked <em>together</em>… </p>
<p>Well, people would certainly view him as less of a pariah, and Potter might – just <em>might</em> – pick up a better note-taking habit, but he wasn’t holding his breath.  In theory, it was perfect.  But how the hell could he go about proposing that to Potter?  </p>
<p>He peered through the shelves to survey the two Gryffindors arguing over the library table.  The more he looked, the more worn-down Granger appeared.  If he played on her weariness, perhaps it might not be as impossible as he’d originally thought.  But Potter – Potter would be a hard egg to crack.  There were seven years of hostility there, and more than one life-debt floating around, only complicating the mix.  It would take planning.  It would take time.</p>
<p>Draco had intended on retreating to spend the next few millennia plotting the perfect course of action, but Potter, of course, chose that exact moment to glance up from his heap of parchment and catch Draco’s eye through the shelves.  <em>Fuck</em>. </p>
<p>Spurred by some incomprehensible sense of now-or-never, Draco stepped out from the aisle and scoffed as adrenaline poured into his bloodstream.  Though it seemed to happen in the course of an instant, he was unfortunately aware of his own idiocy as if watching himself in slow-motion.  </p>
<p>“Potter,” he said, feeling it roll disdainful and familiar off his tongue – and quite unable to alter its trajectory.  “Studying hard, I see.”</p>
<p>The man bristled immediately.  “Oh, brilliant.  Just what I needed today.  A fight with a ferret.” </p>
<p>Draco’s lips thinned, and he responded without thinking – which, for him, was never wise.  “A fight with your Potions grade, more like.”  </p>
<p>Potter’s eyes narrowed, and he shot to his feet like fire igniting in a rush.  “What did you say?!” </p>
<p>While before he had been whisper-shouting, now he was just flat-out yelling.  Draco saw Pince rise from her desk in the background, but snapped his eyes back to the scene in front of him to stay focused – a scene in which Granger was murmuring “Harry” and resting an ineffective hand on his arm while he raged.  </p>
<p>All eyes in the library shifted to them.  Having not been the center of attention for the better part of two years, Draco found he’d rather missed it.  Even with Potter’s burning gaze on him – or perhaps because of it – his mouth was twisting into a long-forgotten grin, and he decided to abandon his previous careful plan.  </p>
<p>He would <em>goad</em> Potter into studying with him, caution be damned.  </p>
<p>Draco took a step forward, slipping his hands into his pockets like he was confident Potter wouldn’t hex him.  He certainly didn’t believe that, but at times like these, appearances were everything.  </p>
<p>“I said your Potions attempts are the worst excuse for attention-seeking that I’ve seen in my life.  I mean, blowing up both your cauldron <em>and </em>the entire stock of mermaid scales?  Potter, really – it’s <em>excessive.</em>”  </p>
<p>He was quite sure that if Madam Pince hadn’t taken that moment to step between them, Potter would’ve murdered him where he stood.  His wand was raised; his lips were parted in the susurration of a spell never completed…  But, as it happened, she <em>had</em> – and so Draco’s death was temporarily postponed. </p>
<p>“Wand down, Mister Potter!”  She swiveled to face Draco.  “Mister Malfoy!  I must ask what it is you think you’re doing!”  Her frown was expansive and trembling, like her face was still fighting to capture her immense disappointment.  </p>
<p>He clucked his tongue.  “Offering Potter study lessons,” he said, to the utter bewilderment of everyone there.  </p>
<p>Pince froze in a caricature of consternation; Granger’s eyes went comically wide; and Potter – Potter was choking, presumably on air, and sputtering like he’d inhaled half the Black Lake.  It was offensive, honestly – everything about him was.  </p>
<p>“I… No!” Potter finally came up with.  He coughed spasmodically into his hand. </p>
<p>Draco raised a brow.  There was a long silence, which he wisely waited out.  At the end of it, Potter spun towards Granger, who, in turn, looked at Draco with a distrusting glare.  Pince, for her part, looked too shocked to see this situation through to its conclusion and departed back to her desk with a departing, “Do it <em>quietly!</em>”  </p>
<p>After she’d gone, Potter looked back at him.  “No,” he repeated at a slightly lower volume, though no less vehement. </p>
<p>“Harry-” Granger started.</p>
<p>“No.” </p>
<p>Changing tactics, she turned to him instead.  “What’s your real motive here, Draco?”  She pronounced his name clearly, like a declaration of war.  </p>
<p>He sighed.  Always with the mistrust.  “I couldn’t help but noticing Potter’s shit at Potions,” he began.  </p>
<p>When Granger didn’t immediately deny it, Potter piped in with an outraged “Hey!”  </p>
<p>Draco smirked, gaining his footing.  “And he’s clearly hopeless at studying, so I figured if I helped remedy that in public, people would see that I’m not about to curse them in their sleep.  Good for everyone, I reckon.”  </p>
<p>“Aren’t you though?” Potter chimed in bitterly.  </p>
<p>Granger lifted a wry eyebrow and rubbed at her forehead to smooth the deep worry lines there.  “So it’s all about image then?  That’s why you pulled this little stunt?”  </p>
<p>“What isn’t?” he asked, before deciding that wasn’t necessarily going to convince her.  With fellow Slytherins, they would’ve at least appreciated his cool whimsy.  Damn, he really should’ve planned this at least a <em>little</em>.  </p>
<p>“That, and you look like you’re about on death’s door, Granger,” he added, while attempting not to grimace.  “Whatever you’re doing isn’t working, I’m sorry to say.”  </p>
<p>Her eyes shot wide again.  “And you care <em>because?</em>” </p>
<p>He shrugged.  “I’m a caring guy – what can I say?” </p>
<p>Granger and Potter wore twin expressions of incredulity, and even with his pride on the line, Draco couldn’t help but find it amusing.  </p>
<p>Potter broke the spell, of course, by plopping back down in his seat, turning away, and ignoring Draco completely.  </p>
<p><em>Well…shit.</em>  </p>
<p>He’d have to try harder. </p>
<p>Draco took two large steps closer – bringing him into punching range and hoping for the best – and glanced haughtily over Potter’s shoulder.  When he refused to move back, he saw the man’s shoulders seizing with tension, Potter’s jaw hardening as he stared at the pages he wasn’t really reading.  </p>
<p>“Hmm, still on Chapter 12?  We moved past antidote bases weeks ago, you know,” he commented. </p>
<p>Potter’s hands tightened to fists around the now-battered pages.  Without looking back, he gritted out, “What part of ‘no’ didn’t you understand?  I’m. Not. Studying. With. You.”</p>
<p>To Potter’s obvious horror, Draco simply leaned in closer to view the fine print under the graphic, running his fingers over the text.  His chest was nearly touching the man’s back now.  “Quite right,” he muttered.  “If you were studying with <em>me</em>, you’d be far past Chapter 12.”  </p>
<p>Potter let out a huff of noiseless rage, just as Granger piped in with, “What does <em>that</em> mean?”  </p>
<p>Draco stood again and smiled at her, enjoying everyone’s clear discomfiture.  And the fact that no one – even Potter and his cronies – was capable of ignoring him for long.  “It means, Granger, that you care so much about indulging Potter’s insecurities that you never get any work done.” </p>
<p>She opened her mouth to deny it, then seemed quite suddenly unable.  <em>Good.  A good sign.</em> <em>He could work with this.</em></p>
<p>“Quite frankly,” he continued, before losing his window of opportunity, “I don’t give a shit about Potter’s hang-ups – and he certainly doesn’t give a shit about my feelings.  So, surprising as it may seem, I know we’d get a lot more work done together than you two – with your tiresome game of dancing around each other’s frustrations every morning like a drama played out especially for Madam Pince.”</p>
<p>To his utter relief, he saw Granger’s expression relaxing into one of serious thought, and after another moment or two, she even dipped her head in a slight nod.  </p>
<p>“Hermione!” Potter gasped.  “You can’t seriously think-”</p>
<p>“Yes, Harry, I do,” she interrupted.  “He has a point.  Maybe you do need a new tutor.” </p>
<p>“But would you really ditch me that easily and make me study with <em>Malfoy-</em>”</p>
<p>“Harry.”  She gave him a look that made him stop.  “This isn’t working.  I’m not giving up on you – but I think it’s unproductive to keep trying the same thing when it <em>clearly </em>isn’t working.”  Her voice brooked no arguments, resolute and exhausted as it was, and he was silent until she rose and began gathering her books.</p>
<p>“But it’s <em>Malfoy!</em>” Potter exploded.  “He’s probably not even smart!” </p>
<p>“He’s second in the class.”  She commented, glancing over her shoulder from the door.  Her eyes flicked to Draco, likely cataloguing how he had swelled with pride at the acknowledgement.  “See you in Transfiguration, Harry.”</p>
<p>“Hermione, wait!”  Potter sprang to his feet.  He began throwing books and papers indiscriminately into his bag in a whirlwind of movement.  </p>
<p>“Same time tomorrow?” Draco offered, sidestepping the man as he clattered after Granger.  </p>
<p>Potter ignored him entirely and was gone a moment later as well.  Draco stood alone by the table, staring vaguely in the direction of the door.  </p>
<p><em>That went…not terribly?  Not as poorly as he’d thought?  </em>He wasn’t quite sure how it’d gone, but he’d done his level best.  The rest, he decided, was up to Potter.  </p>
<p>Only tomorrow would tell.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>The day after that bizarre library interaction, Harry threw himself down in the seat across from Malfoy and glared at him to drive home the point that – though he was <em>here</em> – he wasn’t happy about it.  The sneaky Slytherin had gotten here early, snatching up the same table he always sat at with Hermione: the specific table he was planning to <em>not </em>sit at today – on principle.  If he hadn’t already been put out by the whole situation from yesterday, he might’ve let that ruin his morning.  </p>
<p>As it was, he’d come ready for battle.  </p>
<p>Harry pulled his textbooks out of his bag and tossed them onto the table one by one, letting each hit with a hard slap.  His boldness earned him an immediate hiss from Madam Pince, but only the smallest quirk of an eyebrow from Malfoy, whose expression he had glanced up to gauge.  It was only natural, really – the man had invited <em>him</em>, after all; he had clearly come prepared as well.  </p>
<p>Harry would just have to up his game, then. He threw his legs up onto the table, upsetting Malfoy’s inkpot, and leaned back lazily in his chair.  “Well?  What’s on the agenda today, ferret?”  He tried to inject as much disdain into it as he could – though, compared to Malfoy himself, it was possibly not quite so impressive.</p>
<p>Malfoy’s face pinkened minutely, and Harry noted with glee that an expression of annoyance flitted across his face for half a second before it was gone.  Though his smugness was slightly dampened by the fact that he would’ve missed it entirely had he not been watching closely – Malfoy had gotten himself under control that quickly.  </p>
<p>
  <em>Okay, so he was a worthy opponent.  Fine.</em>
</p>
<p>“Potions.  <em>Obviously</em>,” Malfoy answered.  He cleared his throat a little, sitting straighter in his seat.  “I thought you could take this quiz I made up, so I can see where your weaknesses lie, and then we can work around that-”</p>
<p>“No.”  </p>
<p>Malfoy blinked, eyes snapping back to his from where they’d fallen to drift over his notes.  “Excuse me?”</p>
<p>“I said ‘no.’  You don’t seem too good at understanding such an elementary word, <em>Malfoy</em>.”  </p>
<p>“Well, if I don’t quiz you, how am I supposed to know what areas you need help in?” he responded, annoyed.</p>
<p>Harry scowled.  “There’s enough quizzes in the actual class!  I’m not doing Potions work outside of that to torture myself even more.  Just ask me some questions.”  </p>
<p>With clear reluctance, Malfoy drew the parchment in front of his nose and read it off with an exaggerated sniff.  “Fine.  How many drops of salamander blood are needed in the average strengthening solution?”  </p>
<p>“I dunno.  Four?”  </p>
<p>“<em>Three and a half</em>.  Next.  What are the five main components to brewing an typical-length love potion?”</p>
<p>“Rose petals, moonstone…err…some kind of herb?”</p>
<p>“Potter, are you serious?”</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>” </p>
<p>“Rose petals, moonstone, <em>peppermint</em>, Ashwinder eggs, and pearl dust!  This stuff is for first-years!”  Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose in obvious frustration.  He ran his eyes down the rest of the sheet, then flipped it over to view the back with a flourish. </p>
<p>
  <em>Just how long of a quiz had he expected him to take?!</em>
</p>
<p>“Okay, okay,” the man mumbled – seemingly to himself.  “How would you prepare the sopophorous beans for a Draught of Living Death?” </p>
<p>Harry wracked his brains.  This one actually sounded vaguely familiar, and he realized after a moment that it was the first of Snape’s recipes he had inadvertently followed in sixth year.  Good – that meant he remembered for once.  “You crush them,” he answered, just a little proud of himself. </p>
<p>Malfoy sank back in his chair, looking defeated.  “No.  No, you <em>slice </em>them, you idiot – not <em>crush.  </em>How the bloody hell did you make it to Advanced Potions in the first place?” </p>
<p>Harry was going to argue, but gave it up as twin waves of humiliation and guilt struck him from both sides.  Mainly, he’d gotten in through favoritism and cheating – things he would’ve expected more from Malfoy than himself.  The thought stung a little.</p>
<p>“A lot has happened since sixth year,” he managed at last, feeling like a coward for making such an excuse.  “I couldn’t help forgetting some of my notes.” </p>
<p>Malfoy gave him an unimpressed look that, if possible, left him feeling even worse.  It was one thing to be disappointed in himself, but another entirely to have <em>Malfoy</em> disappointed in him.  “Right,” the blonde finally said, drawing out the vowel with disbelief.  </p>
<p>
  <em>Merlin.  This wasn’t going to work.  </em>
</p>
<p>Not that he had <em>thought </em>this would work, but… </p>
<p>“Well, if that’s all you had to offer, then…” Harry started, trailing off as he made to stand.  He was stopped, however, by a sharp intake of breath that made him glance up at Malfoy.  Where he was expecting more general annoyance (and possibly relief), the man’s face was instead thunderstruck.  </p>
<p>Harry paused.</p>
<p>Malfoy sputtered a few times before leaning forward and settling on a low, livid tone that he couldn’t recall ever hearing before – cut, as it was, with a fierce desperation.  “That is <em>not all</em>.  How <em>dare</em> you try to walk out before we’ve even gotten started?  It’s that piss-poor attitude that fails you your classes, you mop.”  </p>
<p>Harry’s mouth worked noiselessly, shocked into silence by this new method of attack.  He wanted to look away, but his gaze was trapped in those glittering grey eyes.  </p>
<p>“Now listen here,” Malfoy hissed.  “You’re going to sit back down in your chair, and we’re going to start at the beginning.  You’re going to read every chapter we’ve gone through this year.  Summary charms – you’re going to use them for every section.  And once you’re through with that, you’re going to extract your own key points and write them again.  Ask any questions you want, but you <em>will </em>do my quizzes, and you <em>will </em>cut the theatrics – because there isn’t enough time in the semester to catch you up if you don’t.”  Malfoy’s eyes narrowed dangerously.  “Are we understood?” </p>
<p>Harry took the subsequent silence as an opportunity to breathe again, and he forced his muscles to relax when he realized they were clenched.  His thoughts were a jumbled mess, but the most disconcerting one – the one that kept skittering across his mind – was the lone, panicked comment: <em>That was kinda hot.</em></p>
<p>“Well, Potter?”</p>
<p>Harry snapped back to the present, shaking his head not-so-subtly to clear it.  “Fine,” he said.  “But I better have a fucking E at the end of this.”  </p>
<p>Malfoy’s smile was sudden and sharp as a knife.  “Oh, Potter.  Under my watch, you’ll have an O.” </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Tutoring was harder than Draco had expected.  Like, <em>really</em> hard.  Instead of having to just <em>know</em> the material, he had to know it well enough to <em>teach </em>it – which he was quickly learning did not come easily to him.  In their second lesson, Potter had asked him what the difference between “combining” and “emulsifying” was, and the best he had been able to offer was: “Err, one’s…<em>more</em> combined than the other?” at which Potter had rolled his eyes and grunted something disparaging about his person. </p>
<p>That part he had ignored, but it had thrown him.  If <em>Potter</em> – someone with little to no sense for the Potions field as a whole – could ask him questions he couldn’t answer, how well did he <em>actually</em> know the subject?  That study session was followed by a crisis of self-doubt, and Draco had ended up staying in the library well into the night reading complicated journals about recent potion advancements.  </p>
<p>He had gone to bed smug, thinking he’d be safe after that, but three days later, it’d happened again.  Potter had looked up from his notes – which he was puzzling over more than usual – and asked him out of the blue: “Why is sloth brain mucus a staple in creating focus-enhancers, when sloths themselves aren’t especially smart?”  </p>
<p>Draco had gaped unattractively for a few seconds before morphing his inner turmoil into a simple glare instead.  “I don’t kno-… I mean, <em>who </em>knows a thing like that?!  Just memorize the ingredients list already.”  </p>
<p>Once again, Potter had rolled his eyes – though, this time, he’d also sat back in his chair and continued to watch Draco with an unimpressed look.  </p>
<p>Immediately, Draco had gone on the defensive.  “Wh-what?”</p>
<p>“What?” Potter had mocked back. </p>
<p>Understanding exactly zero percent of Potter’s intentions, Draco had stiffened, trying – and likely <em>failing</em> – to keep the discomfort off his face.  Exuding confidence was everything here.  If he let on that he had actually never tutored anyone before, Potter would leave, and…</p>
<p><em>And what? </em>a voice questioned in the back of his mind.  He ignored it.  </p>
<p>“Stop looking at me,” he’d replied.  </p>
<p>Now – nearly two weeks into their little tutor sessions – Draco had encountered a new brand of obstacle.  </p>
<p>“Quidditch practice?” he repeated incredulously.  </p>
<p>Potter, for his part, looked a little sheepish about it.  “Yeah.  So I can’t meet in the mornings anymore.  They asked me to help coach, and since I haven’t had a chance to play in a while, well…” he shrugged.  </p>
<p><em>He ‘couldn’t say no,’ </em>Draco’s mind supplied. </p>
<p>He pursed his lips and forced himself to be civil.  So he’d have to change his routine up a bit – that was fine.  It wasn’t like he had anything pressing in the evenings; he could simply swap things around.  But it was annoying that Potter was <em>presuming</em> things like that.  He had no problem saying “no” to Draco – unendingly, it seemed.</p>
<p>“Alright,” he responded tightly, “so you want to meet after dinner instead?”  </p>
<p>Potter nodded.  “Yeah, if you can.” </p>
<p>He looked earnest enough that Draco softened a fraction.  “Fine.  But the library gets fairly crowded around then, so perhaps it would be better to meet somewhere else.” </p>
<p>“Common room?” </p>
<p>He scoffed.  “As if you’d be able to focus while your friends are playing Exploding Snap and sneaking butterbeers.” </p>
<p>“What about Slytherin’s, then?”</p>
<p>He hesitated.  “It gets pretty crowded too.  And I’d rather not bring Gryffindor’s ‘golden boy’ there if I can help it.”  </p>
<p>Potter snorted.  “I thought the whole point of this for you was to improve your reputation?” </p>
<p>He said it jokingly, but Draco froze at the comment.  After that very first meeting, he’d almost forgotten that was his “reason.”  <em>Fuck</em>.  <em>What was </em>that <em>supposed to mean?</em></p>
<p>“Yes, obviously,” he rushed to say – covering for himself, though not quite knowing why.  “But it’s working, isn’t it?  I don’t need to parade you through all of Slytherin to get that point across.”  </p>
<p>As he said it, he was shocked to realize it was true.  He <em>hadn’t </em>been hexed lately, which was rather incredible, now that he thought about it. </p>
<p>“Okay,” Potter said, seeming unconvinced.  “We could find an empty classroom, I guess.”</p>
<p>Draco shook his head.  “As a former prefect, I can assure you that’s a bad idea.  All classroom requests are supposed to be signed in advance, and it takes nearly two weeks for those to go through.” </p>
<p>Potter’s lips twitched, and he almost looked like he was on the verge of a smile.  “Alright, Malfoy – then what do <em>you </em>suggest?” he asked, voice heavy with sarcasm.  “Clearly, you have something in mind, if you keep shooting down all my ideas.”  </p>
<p>Draco began to voice his protest – because <em>really, </em>he <em>hadn’t</em> had anything in mind – but when he stopped and thought about it for a moment, he realized that wasn’t quite true.  He chewed on his lip, suddenly nervous and not knowing why.  “Well, I do have a single,” he murmured.  His eyes flicked to Potter’s defiantly.  “So it’d be quiet and away from any distractions…”</p>
<p>He sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than Potter, and for the life of him, Draco didn’t understand why this whole situation was suddenly so <em>embarrassing</em>.  Like if Potter said no, it’d be a reflection of some greater rejection of him as a whole – <em>or something</em>.  </p>
<p>He waited with bated breath, but after a moment, Potter only shrugged and said “sure” with that easy nonchalance of his.  It was infuriating.  But Draco crumpled with relief on the inside all the same; although he made sure to maintain his casual mask of indifference as they settled the meeting times.  </p>
<p>It was only after Potter had taken his leave, and Draco remained motionless at the library table for far too long, that he realized that maybe something more significant had just taken place here than he had initially assumed.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Malfoy was a terrible tutor.  Like, very, <em>very </em>bad.  He had no sense for <em>constructive </em>criticism – rather than <em>flat-out</em> criticism – and from the way he explained things, it was obvious he had only ever studied by himself.  When answering Harry’s questions, he would give reasons like “just because” and “why would you expect <em>me </em>to know that, Potter?  Just read the damn book.”  In summary, he was terrible; and Harry had no idea why he kept going back for more. </p>
<p>The nearest explanation Harry could come up with was that – awful as it was – studying with Malfoy was still somehow preferable to studying with Hermione, as much as it pained him to admit.  With Hermione, as much as she cared about him, he always noticed the little signs of her exasperation – like the way her mouth tightened or her fingers got real still when he’d asked a dumb question.  She was often disappointed in him, and he hated disappointing her.  </p>
<p>With Malfoy – as the man himself had pointed out – Harry didn’t give a shit about what he thought, which gave him the freedom to ask whatever he liked.  And the <em>tsk</em>s and mumbled insults weren’t nearly as bad as Hermione’s pitying eyes.  </p>
<p>And, now that they studied in Malfoy’s room, Harry had the added benefit of annoying the shit out of him by messing up his neatly ordered belongings.  Just yesterday, Malfoy had been droning on about the miracles of Solution 078, and Harry had cut his rant down by at least a full minute through disturbing the pile of textbooks on Malfoy’s desk. </p>
<p>“What are you doing?” he had snapped, batting Harry’s hand away.  “Don’t touch my stuff!”</p>
<p>“Why?” he’d asked contrarily, enjoying the way Malfoy’s jaw clenched as he fought to find an adequate, non-childish response.  </p>
<p>“Why?  Because it’s <em>organized</em> – a foreign concept to you, no doubt.” </p>
<p>“What is it organized by?  Color?  Dullness of professor’s lecture style?”  He broke off as Malfoy swatted at his hand again, the man’s lips fighting to maintain their scowl, even as they curled up at the edges.  </p>
<p>“Shut <em>up</em>.  It’s none of your business, Potter.” </p>
<p><em>Merlin, were they really almost…joking with each other?  </em>He glanced at Malfoy’s expression once more, noting how the aggressiveness of their earlier sessions had faded to a muted irritation that only flared in occasional bursts.  Nowadays, he and Malfoy were almost acting like <em>friends</em>.  </p>
<p>His heart started pounding when he took this inconvenient moment to remember that stray thought he’d had back at the beginning of all this.  The one in which he’d thought of Malfoy as <em>hot</em>.  </p>
<p>Looking at him now, Harry couldn’t deny that the man was good-looking.  He was tall and lean and <em>fit</em>, and by the time Harry came over in the evenings, his hair was usually mussed into disarray from him repeatedly running his hands through it.  And those eyes – they were so <em>intense</em>.  Especially when Harry said something grating, and they immediately snapped to his without hesitation.  </p>
<p><em>Fuck, </em>he couldn’t be thinking this.  Malfoy – of all people – was off-limits.  If he had any common sense, that is.  Harry hadn’t even considered, until now, that his “passing fancy” of noticing boys might not have been as temporary as he’d thought. </p>
<p>He also realized he was staring, so he cleared his throat hurriedly while breaking his gaze.  Interesting, though, that Malfoy hadn’t looked away either. </p>
<p>“Well, there’s no need to be so fussy about everything,” he mumbled, voice a little rough from his panic.  </p>
<p>Malfoy huffed.  “I’m not <em>fussy</em>, I’m <em>diligent</em>.  In both studies and personal care.”  He arched a brow at Harry’s appearance.  “Something you would do well to attempt yourself.”  </p>
<p>Unable to come up with a good retort, Harry settled for rolling his eyes again. </p>
<p><br/>
</p>
<p>A few days later, Harry was ranting to Ron at dinner, when his friend held up a hand and made him stop.  “Wait, he brought you <em>candy?</em>  Who polyjuiced themselves into Malfoy and pretended to be your tutor?!”  </p>
<p>Harry stifled a groan.  “<em>Ron.  </em>I told you, it wasn’t <em>like </em>that!  He was doing it to be a jerk!”  He scowled just remembering it.  </p>
<p>Draco had turned up the previous day with a box of chocolate frogs and a supercilious grin, telling Harry that he could have one “if – and only <em>if </em>– he got a single question correct.”  It had been largely degrading, and the fact that Harry <em>hadn’t </em>gotten any right until nearly <em>two hours</em> into their session solidified the experience as one he’d much rather not repeat.  </p>
<p>“He was being condescending about it,” Harry grumbled, trying to wipe the incredulity from Ron’s face.  </p>
<p>“Still, mate.  Hermione’s never brought <em>me</em> candy as a reward – and we’ve been together for months now!  Maybe I’d get better grades if she did…”  </p>
<p>Harry’s cheeks blazed as those implications mingled with his own private speculations.  He shook his head to clear it.  “I swear – he just did it to be an arse.” </p>
<p>He heard a loud sigh to his left and turned to see Hermione reading with an amused expression on her face.  </p>
<p>“What?”  </p>
<p>She kept her eyes on her book, though she was smiling knowingly now.  “Nothing.”</p>
<p>“<em>What?</em>”</p>
<p>Hermione sighed, pulling a bookmark from her robe pocket and marking her place before looking at him.  “Harry…” she said gravely.  She crinkled her brow and took a deep breath.</p>
<p>“<em>What?!</em>”  </p>
<p>“You’re gay,” her and Ron said in unison.  While Hermione had said it kindly, Ron’s voice sounded exasperated beyond belief.  </p>
<p>Harry blinked in shock.  “I’m…<em>what?</em>” </p>
<p>“Gay!” Ron repeated with a sigh.  “Merlin, I was waiting for you to say something about it, but this is just getting ridiculous, isn’t it?”  </p>
<p>“Is it?” Harry asked, voice shooting high with alarm.  </p>
<p>“It is!” Ron affirmed, clapping him on the shoulder.  Hard.  “Like, don’t get me wrong – I don’t mind that bit at all.  But literally <em>all </em>you do these days is talk about Malfoy.  ‘Malfoy called me a prat,’ or ‘Malfoy wore that green jumper again today,’ or ‘Malfoy gave me a hard question on my quiz!’  I mean, I get it – you have a crush – but enough is enough, mate.”  </p>
<p>Harry’s cheeks blazed red as he endured what was quickly becoming one of the most mortifying conversations of his life.  “I’m not… It’s not a <em>crush</em>, Ron-”</p>
<p>“Oh, no!  You don’t get to sit there and deny it and pretend that I’m crazy after all the daily ‘Malfoy reports’ I’ve endured!”</p>
<p>Harry turned weakly to Hermione to appeal for help.  She merely shook her head at him with a tight grimace before adding, “For the record, it <em>is </em>a crush.  It’s about time you knew.”</p>
<p>“<em>Hermione!</em>”  </p>
<p>“What?  It’s <em>true</em>.  But it’s okay, Harry – really.  He’s changed quite a bit since last year, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”  </p>
<p>Harry set his jaw defensively and muttered, “Might’ve noticed…”</p>
<p>She smirked triumphantly, and he decided he shouldn’t have given an inch.  Now she would assume that he was accepting his supposed “crush” on Malfoy, which he definitely <em>didn’t </em>have…<em>did </em>he?</p>
<p>He recalled the way Malfoy’s eyes had lit up when he’d finally gotten an answer right.  His face had fallen into an easy grin, and he’d bestowed the chocolate frog on him with a teasing, “See, Potter?  That wasn’t so hard.” </p>
<p>His heart may or may not have fluttered a bit.  A lot “a bit.” </p>
<p><em>Regardless</em>, he was just about done eating, and now he would have to go face Malfoy during their study session and pretend everything was normal.  Which his friends had just arsed up gloriously with this little revelation.  </p>
<p>“Fuck off, I do <em>not </em>like him,” Harry repeated half-heartedly before rising and grabbing his bag.  A step, an uneasy scrub at his hair.  “I’ll see you both later.”  </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Potter was acting weirdly today.  Ever since he’d arrived here after dinner, he’d been glancing around the room like he expected it to attack him somehow, and he’d been studiously avoiding eye contact as well.  There was no doubt that he was acting oddly; the question was <em>why</em>.  </p>
<p>Had the chocolate frogs been too much?  Draco had been reading a Muggle book lately, entitled <em>Positive Reinforcement: The Best Way to Motivate Your Students</em>, and it had strongly encouraged bringing treats in as rewards.  Looking back on it now, though, it was probably just one of those ridiculous Muggle things that didn’t translate to the Wizarding World at all.  Perhaps he’d committed a faux pas, even. </p>
<p>Draco bit his lip, wondering if that was it, or if Potter had some other reason to ignore him now.  It wouldn’t be terribly surprising – they’d spent a large portion of their lives ignoring each other, after all.  For some reason, though, it bothered him a bit more now.  Now that he was finding his footing in tutoring at last and they were (mostly) getting along.  </p>
<p>He was jerked into awareness by the sudden silence of Potter pausing his note-taking.  It lasted far longer than his usual “I’m getting bored and I need to look around for something mundane to chat about” pauses, and every second that passed without the background scritching of the quill felt like a terrible, eternal silence that he should find a way to break.  </p>
<p>“Potter?” he said at last.  “You’re unfocused.”</p>
<p>He’d meant to phrase it as a question, such as “<em>why</em> are you unfocused” – but as it was, it came out as an oddly-placed statement that he immediately regretted.  Draco swallowed.  “What I meant was…err… Is this about the chocolate frogs?”</p>
<p>Potter broke from his distant stare to glance at him with surprise.  “No!  Erm…I mean…just a bit?” </p>
<p>Draco cursed himself internally, thinking, <em>I knew it – I </em>knew <em>it!  </em>On the outside, though, he merely dipped his head in what he hoped was a serene and diplomatic nod before responding.  “I thought as much.  I didn’t mean to, well, make a <em>thing </em>of it or whatever… But it was something that had worked with other students,” he improvised, “and-”</p>
<p>“<em>What </em>other students?” Potter cut in.  “Malfoy, it’s clear that you’ve never tutored before.” </p>
<p>“It is?!” <em>Well… fuck.  </em>“I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about – I’ve tutored <em>loads </em>of people, and-”</p>
<p>“Mhmm, right,” Potter was nodding distractedly, clearly caught up in something else, so Draco stopped.  “Anyway, that’s not what… I didn’t mean that the frogs had <em>offended </em>me or anything.  Just… I was telling Ron about them, and he said something that, er, made me think.” </p>
<p>Potter’s eyes were now engaged in this odd pursuit where they flicked consistently between Draco and literally <em>anywhere else</em>.  </p>
<p>“Think about <em>what?</em>”  Potter <em>talked </em>about him?  Outside of their sessions?  For some reason, the thought made him incredibly nervous, and his pulse sped accordingly. </p>
<p>“Nothing!” he said quickly.  “Nothing important.”  His eyes still kept catching on him though – and for longer and longer durations.  Like he couldn’t help it, almost.</p>
<p>Something hot and demanding twisted deep in Draco’s stomach.  It urged him to sit up straighter from where he was lounging against the wall, to stare deep into Potter’s eyes and try to solve this puzzle. </p>
<p>“Well, <em>what</em> then?”  </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Draco Malfoy was going to be the death of him.  The man seemed to have no idea how alluring he looked sprawled across his bed; the piles of textbooks surrounding him did nothing to alleviate his charm.  He was contemplative and <em>beautiful </em>– and, okay, Harry might’ve had a bit of a crush after all. </p>
<p><em>Why did he have to choose </em>today <em>of all days to study in bed?  Usually, he just took the other chair!  </em>Harry’s panic was mounting, and he had a feeling this interaction would end with him divulging something humiliating.  </p>
<p>“Really, it’s nothing,” he repeated, trying to inject confidence into his voice.  “I was just rambling – sorry about that.” </p>
<p>But Malfoy somehow looked more interested than ever.  He was leaning forward now, uncrossing his legs to sit on the edge of his bed and – seemingly – fix Harry with a more piercing stare.  His Advanced Potions book flopped closed next to him, but he didn’t even seem to notice.  </p>
<p>“Potter.  Whatever it is clearly bothered you, if it got you thinking like this,” he said.  “Thinking for the <em>first time in your life</em>, I might add.” </p>
<p>Harry allowed a small snort to escape, and Malfoy’s intensity softened at the sound – but only just.  Merlin, why had Harry agreed to study in Malfoy’s room to begin with?  He now felt bombarded by the intimacy of seeing everything Malfoy used and touched on a daily basis – it was infuriating to see such a landscape, yet have no clue where he stood with its owner.  He wanted to pick up the little snake paperweight on his desk and ask if it was a gift from someone.  Or run his fingers over the constellations on his wall and discover whether he’d charmed them himself.  </p>
<p>In short, he wanted to <em>know </em>Malfoy – and, with anxiety, he prayed that this desire wasn’t blooming far too late.  </p>
<p>“Look, I…”  When he failed to come up with a creative excuse, he accidently burst out with the last thing he wanted to expose: the truth.  “He told me I’m gay!”</p>
<p>Malfoy’s eyes shot wide with shock.  “He told you you’re…” </p>
<p>“Gay,” Harry echoed.</p>
<p>Malfoy waved a hand in vague, undirected emphasis.  “<em>He </em>told <em>you</em> that you’re…”</p>
<p>“Gay.  Yes.”</p>
<p>“Well, are you?”</p>
<p>Harry froze, taken aback by the directness of the question.  He desperately tried to read Malfoy’s body language.  <em>Was he against it?  Would he no longer want to study together?  In his room?  At night?  Alone?  </em></p>
<p>
  <em>At all?  </em>
</p>
<p>Malfoy’s eyes were intense – but they <em>always </em>were.  They gave nothing away. </p>
<p>“No,” Harry said; then, “Yes.”  Then, “Shit, I have no fucking clue.”  </p>
<p>Malfoy, for his part, looked at least amused at that last one.  It was a slight change from the unhidden shock on his face, and Harry found he’d rather make this funny than chance facing whatever humiliating hurt he’d feel if Malfoy cast him out now.  But he hadn’t erupted into any “My <em>father </em>says wizards should only marry <em>witches</em>” or whatever other nonsense Harry half-expected he would, so he supposed that was a good sign so far.  </p>
<p>But he was still nervous as hell when Malfoy finally murmured “Oh” and sat back to chew on that information for a minute.  After an excruciating span, he opened his mouth, then stopped, before finally finding the words.  “So you…”</p>
<p>“Like men?” Harry tried, when Malfoy trailed off and didn’t seem to intend to finish the question.  He hoped that’s what he had been asking and not something ruder.  “Yes.” </p>
<p>“And…women?”  He glanced up quizzically.  </p>
<p>“Are great,” Harry assured quickly.  “But…I don’t know if it’s the same?”  He didn’t know why in the hell he was puzzling this out with Malfoy, either. </p>
<p>“Huh,” the blond murmured.  “So you’d say you predominantly like men?”</p>
<p>Harry scratched his ear nervously.  “I’m realizing that recently, yeah.”  He decided he’d made a mistake with his adverb choice when Malfoy’s eyes snapped to his with curiosity.  </p>
<p>Instead of elaborating, Harry looked pointedly at the inkwell on Malfoy’s desk.  “Anyway, Potions…”</p>
<p>“And this came about because of chocolate frogs <em>how?</em>” Malfoy cut in, ignoring his poor attempt at changing the subject. </p>
<p>“Oh, well…you know…” Harry sputtered.  “Err, no <em>particular</em> reason…”</p>
<p>“Potter…”</p>
<p>“Look, I’m going to head to bed!” Harry said loudly.  At Malfoy’s widened eyes, he quickly added, “My <em>own </em>bed!” like the idiot he was.  </p>
<p>After a moment, Malfoy rose hesitantly to his feet as Harry busied himself packing his bag.  </p>
<p>“It’s just, there’s that Potions practical tomorrow, and…and I feel like I actually might be ready for it this time.  Possibly.  But I should definitely try to be well-rested and all…” he rambled, eradicating the silence Malfoy himself made no move to fill.  </p>
<p>When he <em>did </em>speak again, it was simply to mutter, “Right,” when Harry’s hand was on the doorknob.  He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but Malfoy almost looked a little lost standing there, books lying abandoned across the bed.  A little forlorn, maybe.  If Harry hadn’t been choking on the awkward atmosphere he’d created, he might’ve felt a little bad for ditching.  </p>
<p>As it was, he rushed straight back to his dorms and fell into bed with a heaving sigh.  He pulled the curtains closed around himself, not wanting to face anyone right now, and stared at the ceiling for a long, long time.  </p>
<p><em>He had a crush on Draco Malfoy.  </em>What was he going to do?</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p><em>Potter is gay.  Potter is gay.  Potter is gay.  </em>The thought played in his head on repeat as he half-heartedly attempted to sleep.  The inflections shifted with repetition, but the message remained the same:</p>
<p><em>Potter is </em>gay. </p>
<p>
  <em>Potter is <strong>gay. </strong></em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Potter is gay.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>Harry didn’t sleep well that night.  And so – the next day, when he accidentally brushed against Malfoy’s arm in Potions class on his way to the storage closet – he made the unthinking mistake of mumbling “Sorry” in his general direction.  Having never acknowledged each other in public aside from their study sessions, however, such a seemingly small thing caused quite a stir.</p>
<p>Dean Thomas’ head snapped towards him from the next table over.  Neville raised a curious eyebrow.  And Malfoy’s reluctant partner, Millicent Bullstrode, was also looking at him as if he’d grown another head.  <em>Shit, </em>he thought tiredly.  <em>I thought they knew about the studying?  </em></p>
<p>But apparently “studying together” still left room for speculation about their motives and their rivalry.  “I thought he was <em>paying</em> you to study with him, Harry,” Seamus whispered from behind once he’d retaken his seat.  “Thought you were doing it for a laugh.” </p>
<p>“No, <em>you idiot</em>,” Lavender chimed in, brushing a stray lock behind her handsomely scarred ear.  “He was doing it as a resumé-builder, <em>obviously</em>.  ‘Personally reformed ex-convicts in the aftermath of the war’…sounds lofty, doesn’t it?”  </p>
<p>“I don’t think Harry freaking Potter needs help with his <em>resumé</em>, Lavender,” Seamus retorted.  He turned a blinding smile on Harry.  “So which is it, mate?”  </p>
<p>“Ooh, oh – let me guess!  You’re actually having a <em>secret affair </em>with him,” Parvati cut in with glee.  “That’s my <em>favorite</em> rumor.”  </p>
<p>Harry’s face burned, and he turned away from all of them to face forward again as Slughorn reentered with the gurdyroots he’d gone to fetch.  One tumbled from his arms onto the ground, and Hermione raced forward to help without delay.  Some things never changed, he mused.  </p>
<p>“Just ignore them,” Ron murmured in his ear in the midst of all the commotion.  “They don’t mean it, you know.” </p>
<p>“It’s fine,” Harry gritted back.  He only hoped Malfoy hadn’t overheard.  </p>
<p>They continued on in their lesson, Harry zoning out with his eyes trained on the blond head several rows up, until it was finally time for the practical.  He sort of thought that would be better, since he could do something other than sit and absorb a boring lecture.  However, he clearly hadn’t accounted for the fact that – no longer sitting and facing forward – Malfoy would now be able to catch him staring as he bustled around preparing ingredients.  </p>
<p>His heart jumped when they locked eyes, and he felt strangely breathless as he began chopping his allotment of gurdyroot.  <em>Focus.  Dice – don’t chop.  Now ease it into the pot…</em>  Harry’s eyes flicked traitorously back up at Malfoy, and in the shock of finding them still trained on him, he dumped his entire pile into the cauldron at once.  </p>
<p>Purple smoke plumed ungraciously up into his face, and he tore his gaze away to focus on the task at hand.  <em>Merlin, he looked like an idiot.  </em>They’d been studying nothing but Potions – especially the need for handling ingredients <em>delicately </em>– for several weeks straight.  He stirred his humiliation away in vicious whisks of the pot.  </p>
<p>Slughorn patrolled the room.  He stopped to sniff Harry’s potion on the way, wincing a bit as he said, “Looking a bit rough there, my boy!  But there’s time enough to turn it around.”  He patted Harry’s slumping shoulder in an avuncular manner that left him more dispirited than ever. </p>
<p>He continued to mix his potion, focusing desperately on his notes while Slughorn roamed.  After adding the last bit of bicorn horn powder and a sprig of thyme, he was pleased to see that his potion was paling in accordance with the outline.  That was good – he could <em>do</em> this.  </p>
<p>He chanced a look up at Malfoy.  </p>
<p>The man was stirring his cauldron, intent grey eyes reflecting the lilac of the mixture.  He was beautiful like this – hair falling in loose strands around his forehead, cheeks tightened in focus, long fingers wrapped purposefully around the ladle…</p>
<p>He glanced up.  </p>
<p>To Harry’s shock, as soon as their eyes met, the spoon in Malfoy’s other hand wavered – spilling the daisy nectar in far too soon.  </p>
<p>“Mister Malfoy?” Slughorn commented from the other side of the room.  “It’s not like your hand to slip.”  The man had woefully unfortunate timing in terms of when he chose to be observant.</p>
<p>Malfoy made a small noise of surprise when he finally looked down at his potion, only to find angry yellow streaks billowing across the surface.  He winced, looking thoroughly chastened by his uncharacteristic mistake.</p>
<p>Harry’s heart was still racing, though.  <em>Had he just…?</em></p>
<p>Slughorn turned back in his direction, and he prayed to whatever gods were out there that this class would end <em>this century</em>.  He tried to refocus – he really <em>tried</em> – but as soon as the professor was safely past his table, he mistook doxie eggs for frog eyeballs, which sent up another angry puff of smoke – this time noxious green.  </p>
<p>The practical dragged on for a <em>criminal</em> amount of time, and when Slughorn warned of the ten minutes remaining, it was all Harry could do not to banish his potion entirely and take the failing grade.  It was rank and gurgling, and he could’ve sworn it muttered something like “kill me” amidst the bubbles – but that could’ve also been his admittedly strong imagination at play.  </p>
<p>In the end, he stoppered it up and wrote his name – along with “sorry” – on the bottle.  <em>Five minutes to spare.</em>  He nearly sprinted out when Slughorn called time, and he was halfway down the hall when Malfoy stopped him with a sharp “hey!”</p>
<p>Harry turned slowly, cursing himself for pausing instead of simply pretending not to hear.  Malfoy caught up with him in a few more long-legged strides, and then they were standing a few feet apart, awkwardly facing each other without quite an idea of how to go on. </p>
<p><em>What should he say?  What </em>was <em>there to say?  ‘Sorry I’m prone to staring at you for long periods of time – it might be slightly related to that “gay” thing I mentioned last night?’ </em></p>
<p>“You flubbed up the daisy nectar,” he said instead.  A blush bloomed across his face a second later.  Who was <em>he </em>to criticize after that debacle of a lesson?</p>
<p>But the statement at least served to break that terrible tension.  Malfoy’s eyebrow quirked incredulously, and he sounded a bit exasperated as he said, “You added your gurdyroot all at once instead of in thirds.” </p>
<p>Harry laughed.  “I guess we both messed it up then?”  </p>
<p>The beginnings of a smile were working their way across Malfoy’s face, and Harry was struck senseless by both its appearance and its splendor.  A warm feeling spread through his chest, and he was about to say something funny – something self-deprecating maybe, <em>anything</em> to keep Malfoy smiling at him like that – when his classmates caught up and sabotaged the interaction. </p>
<p>“Harry,” Lavender giggled, hanging off Parvati’s arm.  “Careful – people might think you’re going for option three!”  </p>
<p>It was an unnecessary jibe, and he retorted with “Hey, it’s not like that!” before he could think properly about his response.</p>
<p>Malfoy’s face immediately soured.  Harry turned back to him to brush it off – to explain it was some joke that didn’t mean anything – but from his expression, Harry could tell at once that Malfoy had overheard their earlier conversation.  He looked bothered and bitter; and the worst part was that Harry didn’t know whether it was because of a misinterpreted rejection or just general disgust at the thought.  </p>
<p>Harry’s words froze in his throat.  He prayed it wasn’t disgust. </p>
<p>Where in the past Malfoy might have deflected with misdirection and insults, though, the man before him now took the humiliation with a sudden quietude and slight clenching of his fist that left Harry’s lungs burning with the jumble of defenses he didn’t get a chance to say.  </p>
<p>With a stiff nod, Malfoy ducked away – and Harry’s heart stumbled, feeble and wounded, as if accompanying him.  He watched helplessly as his almost-friend disappeared down the hall. </p>
<p>The second he was gone, Harry rounded on his classmates.  “What the hell is your problem?”  The silence that held him captive in front of Malfoy had neatly broken in his absence. </p>
<p>Lavender blinked in surprise. </p>
<p>“What’re you yelling at <em>her</em> for?” Seamus asked in genuine concern.</p>
<p>Pain twisted in Harry’s chest, and he recognized that it was unfair to take it out on them.  But he was angry and they were <em>there</em>.  Right now, that was enough.</p>
<p>“You shouldn’t have said that,” he hissed.  </p>
<p>“Harry, maybe you should-” Ron started, raising his hands to calm him down, but Harry ignored him. </p>
<p>“He has feelings too, you know!”  </p>
<p>Dean raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him.  “What crawled up your arse today?”</p>
<p>“Oh, shut up!” he yelled.  They all recoiled slightly as his magic sent dust spiraling across the stones.  He wanted to say more, but in the tense silence that followed, he realized he’d said enough.</p>
<p>“Harry, do you…” Parvati started, seeming to reach the correct conclusion before everyone else.  “Do you actually like him?”  She asked the last part softly, like she didn’t dare wager such a guess in case it was wrong.  </p>
<p>He ran his hand roughly over his face, trying to mask whatever expression was there.  “Just shut up,” he repeated weakly.  The answer was painfully obvious to everyone present.</p>
<p>“Oh, mate…” Seamus murmured, not unkindly.  “We didn’t know.”  </p>
<p>“Harry, are you really…you know?”  </p>
<p>He turned to Dean at the question.  “Yeah, so?”  It was intended to sound defiant, but it just sounded kind of sad.  </p>
<p>“Well damn, you should’ve said!”  Dean offered a hesitant smile.  “Think of all the time we wasted chatting about <em>girls</em>, when there’s all those hunks on Puddlemere this season.”  </p>
<p>Harry’s remaining self-pity sloughed away under the weight of rapid shock.  “Wait – do you mean you’re…?”</p>
<p>Parvati snorted, elbowing Seamus, who gave a little amused smile.  “Dating me?  Whoops, didn’t realize it was a secret.”  </p>
<p>Overwhelmed as he was, Harry was surprised he didn’t faint.  </p>
<p>“Err, right.  Yeah.  And, uh, how long has that been going on then?” he managed.</p>
<p>Dean and Seamus shared a significant glance.  “About four months?” Dean offered.  “It started over the summer.  But I hadn’t realized you didn’t know – honest.  We weren’t being especially quiet about it.”  </p>
<p> Harry nodded, taking it all in.  Okay, so he was gay, but he wasn’t the only one.  Maybe this wasn’t such a catastrophe after all.</p>
<p>But Malfoy had still run away from him. </p>
<p>He grimaced as he tried to figure out what to do.  His dilemma must’ve been clear on his face, because Hermione stepped out from behind Ron and said, “You should go after him.”  She laid a kind hand on his shoulder, the way she used to do in the tent when he was falling apart on the run. </p>
<p>“You think?” he asked nervously.  “What if I mess it up?”</p>
<p>She smiled, chewing on the side of her lip like she did while solving a particularly challenging problem.  “Harry… you’ve <em>already </em>messed it up.  Many times, in fact – that’s what your relationship with Malfoy is built on.  But that means you don’t have to worry about that step anymore.  It’s over.  You have the luxury of <em>fixing </em>things for the very first time.” </p>
<p>Harry pondered that for a moment before deciding she was right.  She usually was – about danger, about riddles, about coming back to Hogwarts this year after all.  She had been right about studying with Malfoy, and, once more, she had been right about his feelings.  He hadn’t noticed them, but they’d been right under his nose the entire time.  </p>
<p>“Thanks Hermione,” he said – and this time, he <em>meant</em> it.  “I think I’ll go and catch him then.” </p>
<p>She broke into a grin, and it was radiant.  It sliced years of worry from her face that he only noticed in their absence.  <em>Maybe there was hope for him after all.</em></p>
<p>He nodded to his friends and then headed for the dungeons. </p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>A knock came at the door, and Draco didn’t know who it could be.  The remaining Slytherins didn’t want him around – and, apparently, neither did anyone else.  He had been so stupid to believe that being seen with Potter would change anything.  He was a <em>Death Eater</em> to them – now and forever.  </p>
<p>And <em>now</em> he was a plaything for Potter and his friends to ridicule during class.</p>
<p>“Malfoy?”  </p>
<p>Potter’s familiar voice came muffled through the door.  Against his wishes, his pulse sped deliriously.  <em>What the…  What was </em>he <em>doing here?</em></p>
<p>“What?”  His voice came out scratchy and quiet, so he had to repeat himself.  “What?”</p>
<p>“Can I come in?”</p>
<p>He rolled his eyes at the ceiling.  “No, just keep standing there shouting until you draw an adoring crowd.”</p>
<p>“What?  I can’t hear you.”</p>
<p>“Fine!”</p>
<p>Potter came through the door, then shut it, glancing him over with concern.  “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“Are you planning to stay long?” he countered with a nod to the closed door.  “I don’t remember inviting you to study.”  It had <em>hurt</em> to see Potter’s friends laughing at him, making fun of some “torrid affair” they were supposedly having, that – until then –  he hadn’t known he wanted.  It had hurt in a way he hadn’t anticipated.  </p>
<p>“Erm, you didn’t.  Strictly speaking.”  Potter’s brow crinkled.  “But I did piss-poor on that exam, and you promised me an ‘O,’ remember?” </p>
<p>Draco allowed him a small smile, though it was burdened with defensiveness and sarcasm.  “I promised you an ‘O’ if you <em>studied</em>.”  </p>
<p>“I <em>have </em>been studying!  What do you think I’ve been doing the past few weeks?” </p>
<p>“Not learning the difference between frog eyes and doxie eggs – that’s for damn sure.”  It slipped out without his consideration, and he saw Potter’s eyes widen for a second before lighting up.  </p>
<p>“You saw that?  Just how closely were you watching me, Malfoy?”</p>
<p>Draco bristled, feeling color rise to his face.  <em>Merlin</em>.  This was why he should stick to his plans – when he operated without a <em>plan</em>, then he got trapped in humiliating scenarios like this one.  </p>
<p>“I wasn’t… I mean, as your <em>tutor</em>, it was practically my <em>job</em> to oversee-” he trailed off as Potter came closer, moving purposefully to the side of the bed that Draco was sitting on.  </p>
<p>He crouched down, so that their eyes were almost level, and Draco swore his heart stopped entirely.  </p>
<p>“You know what I think?” Potter whispered.  His face was far too close, and Draco couldn’t process words fast enough to guess.  “I think you’re <em>lying</em>.” </p>
<p>He sucked in a breath.  “What’re you talking about?  What’re you <em>doing</em>, Potter-”</p>
<p>“Do you like me?”  He asked it suddenly, as if this blunt question wouldn’t crack the foundations of Draco’s entire world.  His eyes glimmered with wild green hope, and Draco searched them fervently for any sign of a joke or deception.  He found only earnestness. </p>
<p>“I, um…” he floundered for time, “I…well-”</p>
<p>“Because I like you a lot.” </p>
<p>Draco blinked at him in shock.  “But… But the rumors!” he stammered, confused.  “You told them it wasn’t like that…  And you let them believe I was <em>paying </em>you-”</p>
<p>“I said that because it’s not some ‘<em>torrid affair</em>’!  I’m not even <em>dating </em>anyone right now for it to <em>be </em>an affair!”  He ran a hand through messy bangs.  “And I should’ve said something sooner, I just honestly was hoping they’d stop.  That was the first I’d heard of any rumors, for the record.” </p>
<p>After a stunned moment, Draco found the wherewithal to nod.  </p>
<p>Potter offered a sheepish smile.  “So, er… do you like me back?” </p>
<p>Draco paused.  Now that Potter had put it all out there, he admitted that he <em>had </em>entertained the possibility…  <em>I mean, he has such pretty eyes,</em> he thought, then promptly wanted to hex himself for being a sap.  Malfoys didn’t moon over people for something as superficial as <em>eyes</em>.  </p>
<p>Malfoys also didn’t spill potion ingredients when they caught sight of their crush across the room. </p>
<p>Yes – okay, so he liked Potter.  He would be an idiot <em>not</em> to.  The man was grumpy and querulous and only as snarky as the amount of questions he’d gotten wrong that day.  He had a habit of rolling his eyes then smiling – like irritation was only a precursor to affection – and it sent shivers down Draco’s body every time.  He was so perfectly <em>befuddled</em> – about potions, about <em>feelings</em> – it just made Draco want to wrap him in a blanket and explain the world to him.  </p>
<p>Maybe he would laugh.  </p>
<p>Oh, Draco would trade his soul for a single laugh – the way his sullenness fell away like dust before the rain.  He liked Potter now; he had liked him for a while.  </p>
<p>He meant to say so, too – say something eloquent like “certainly” or “I do.”  However, what came out his mouth instead sounded suspiciously like “fuck.”  </p>
<p>It came out in a garbled moan, and when Potter’s face began to fall in incomprehension, he got a grip on himself and snatched the man up by the front of his shirt.  He took advantage of his moment of surprise by leaning closer, getting a good eyeful of Potter’s lips before drawing them nearer to whisper against.  “Of course I like you, you idiot.  You don’t see me tutoring <em>Lavender, </em>do you?”  </p>
<p>Potter’s mouth parted first in shock, then curled into that signature lazy grin, and he pulled Draco in the rest of the way.  </p>
<p>Their lips brushed, and he tried his best not to cry – because it was the single sweetest moment of his life.  He drew his tongue along the seam of Potter’s smile, and they both took a startled, intoxicated breath before continuing.  </p>
<p>Draco’s heart fluttered in his chest like a sparrow breaking free.  </p>
<p>Potter leaned in closer, pulling Draco’s face down to his as he slumped onto his knees.  Somehow, they <em>both </em>ended up sprawled on the floor.  </p>
<p>“Potter,” Draco murmured later, when their lips were tired and red and swollen.  “I never asked – <em>why </em>do you like me though?” </p>
<p>The man pushed his glasses up from where they’d slipped down the bridge of his nose.  It was such a small gesture, perfectly domestic in its repetition, but for some reason, it made Draco’s heart ache with all-consuming fondness.  Harry laughed, and the sound was addicting.  “A little late for that question, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Draco’s lips quirked into a smile.  “Perhaps.  But I’d still like to know.” </p>
<p>Potter’s eyes snapped to his, and then deepened in sincerity.  “Draco – you can be a real git sometimes, but I’m still <em>crazy </em>about you.  You’re impetuous and ambitious and really-not-that-great-at-tutoring, but-” he took a breath so he could continue over Draco’s indignant “Hey!”  “<em>But</em> you’re passionate about things you put your mind to, and that’s a very attractive trait in a person.”  </p>
<p>Draco felt his scowl softening into a smile.  That building anxiety Potter inspired in him seemed to melt away as something warm and languid took its place.  All of a sudden, the world seemed so much clearer. </p>
<p>“You know,” he burst out, determined to avoid addressing such a straightforward, emotional comment.  He wasn’t a <em>Gryffindor </em>after all.  “I just figured out the answer to your question.”  He glanced at Potter, who seemed as thrown by the topic change as he was himself.  He let himself laugh at his expression, but also the self-indulgent whimsy. </p>
<p>“What question?”  Potter was looking at him oddly now, like he’d inhaled some potions fumes when he wasn’t looking.  <em>Who knows – he very well might have</em>. </p>
<p>“The one about the sloth, remember?”  </p>
<p>After a moment, Potter nodded hesitantly.  “Why their brain mucus is crucial for focus-enhancing potions?”  </p>
<p>“Exactly!” Draco exclaimed.  “You said it didn’t make sense, because they aren’t especially smart.”  He paused, glancing at Potter to verify his attention.  “But I realized they don’t <em>have</em> to be smart.  They have to have good <em>focus</em> – which definitely they do.  We conflated ‘focus’ with ‘intelligence’ and were tricked by our latent assumptions.”  He gestured in frenzied excitement.  “Do you get it, Harry?  The answer was right in front of us all along!”  </p>
<p>Harry smiled, and he brushed a strand of hair from out of Draco’s eyes.  His eyes were crinkled and gentle.</p>
<p>“You’re such a nerd,” he said.  “But yes.  Yes, I think it was.” </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you all enjoyed this little piece!  (I just really wanted to slip another Strugglefest story in this month, so I cranked it out as best I could.)  I'm realizing that a lot of my stories center around a moment of coming out - it's a topic that fascinates me, in that it can happen so many ways and mean such varied things to different people.  Anyway, thanks for reading!  Be sure to check out the other pieces in our <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Drarry_Strugglefest_2020">Strugglefest collection</a> as the month winds down.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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